


Painting Words

by fishyberry



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5035402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishyberry/pseuds/fishyberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lovino's shitty life couldn't get any worse, but at least he's got his Nonno and a scholarship to a prestigious liberal arts school as an English major. Except then he loses the former, hates the latter, and his neighbor won't fucking leave him alone. Life's fucking great. [Spamano, Prucan, GerIta, please look at ship list on profile]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Please Don’t Judge The First Line

 

“It was night before Halloween, Friday the 13th. A cat screeched like a seagull whose wings were cut off and--”

Lovino pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how in the world someone could be this moronic. Sure, this crummy town in New York wasn’t where the brightest people lived, but there had to be some limit to the stupidity.

“--It was just as if they was… DEAD!”

Oh god. He couldn’t take any more of this fucker. Lovino waved his hand slightly so that he would get the teacher’s attention and signaled that he had to use the restroom. As soon as he was given permission, he bolted out of the room.

With no real destination in mind--he didn’t _actually_ need to use the restroom, after all--Lovino strolled down the hallway and up the stairs. Everyone was in class and the hall monitors never did their jobs properly anyways, so nobody noticed him slip through the never-locked door to the rooftop. Technically, students weren’t allowed up there due to safety precautions, but Lovino didn’t care about rules if it got him away from his idiotic classmates. Seriously, had they actually thought through what they were writing? This was an AP English class for fuck’s sake--an AP English class filled with seniors! Everyone should have a minimal amount of common sense, right?

He huffed. Well. At least he didn’t have to listen to it anymore. He breathed in, the wind licking his face gently as he moved closer to the edge of the rooftop. The wind always made him feel better; it cooled his head. It had been something his nonno had told him to do when he and his brother were young.

“If you ever get angry,” the man had said, eyes staring out at the countryside from their position a grassy hill, “just take a breath, let the wind cool your face, and start again.” He turned his gaze to smile down at Lovino, eyes twinkling. “You are stronger than your emotions.”

Lovino had tried to take his advice, but it rarely worked--he got too worked up too quickly, his fuse blowing out before he even had the chance to let the wind cool his head. Feliciano, on the other hand, had never had a problem with anger. (Sometimes Lovino wondered if it was because he ran around so energetically that he had simply created his own wind source.) (Lovino still didn’t have proof that this wasn’t the case.)

The wind blew in his face, as if saying “Good job! You didn’t yell at your classmates and reduce them to tears again!”, a situation that had happened quite a few times over the course of the year. (But really, they were all high school seniors, was it so hard to be fucking sensible? ‘A cat screeched like a seagull whose wings were cut off’? They couldn’t have thought of any better analogy? And what was that crap about the night before Halloween being the 13th? Had that not given off a red light _when they were fucking writing it?_ )

Wait. Okay. He was getting worked up again. Deep breaths, Lovino. Don’t go back and yell at your classmates, no matter how much they deserved it. Remember Nonno’s words. His “bathroom break” was reaching its limit, so he bade the wind farewell and slipped back into the building. He stopped by the bathroom to wash his hands, if only to fool the teacher, and made his way back to the classroom.

Lovino entered to half-hearted applause signalling the end of yet another appalling presentation by one of his classmates. He sighed out of relief and quickly went back to his spot, trying to get as little attention as possible while the next presenter took the stage. Thankfully this person didn’t seem _as_ stupid as the previous presenter. Or at least, was intelligent enough for Lovino to drown out the noise.

Lovino preferred to think about other things. Better things. Like how there was only 5 days left until his last high school summer vacation. Like his scholarship to the most prestigious liberal arts college in USA. Like how he would spend all day writing. Okay actually, that last thought didn’t seem so great.

Lovino grimaced, a feeling of uneasiness bubbling in his stomach. He could do this. He had to do this. There was literally nothing else that he could do other than write. He was good at correcting all the grammar mistakes, he could vary syntax, and he had a wide range of vocabulary. He had gotten nothing other than A+ for all his writing and he was sure that he had enough talent to be a writer. Probably.

Nevermind how he had never written a novel. Or anything other than his school assignments. He did write few letters to his Nonno so that had to count for something right? He could do this. He had to--

His thought was interrupted by a faint vibration in his pants.

Lovino frowned and discreetly took out his phone, wondering who had the audacity to call him during class time. He told everyone that he didn’t take calls unless it was an emergency and that if they called him for trivial matters, he would castrate them.

Unknown number. Figures. It must be a spam call. Lovino switched the device to silent and went back to tuning out the world. Where was he? Oh, yes, he could do this. He was already unhappy with his life. What more was a little more misery? There was no way he could compete with Feliciano if he was to be an art major. He had zero to no friends thanks to his dazzling personality. He was pretty sure he had anger issues.

Life was good. Life was great. Life was fantastic. Life was--

“FRATELLO!” A scream from somewhere outside the classroom door caused the entire room to jump in surprise. It was quickly followed by a loud bang, doorknob rattling as whoever was outside wrestled with it. Lovino frowned and made to stand up. Feliciano? What was going on?

“FRATELLO W-WE HAVE TO GO _NOW_!” The younger Vargas finally managed to get the door open, and he stumbled inside, eyes immediately looking to Lovino. His face was covered in tears, his usual happy demeanor gone, replaced by obvious panic.

“Feli what’s going o--”

“N-NONNO--CAR AC-ACCIDENT--H-HAVE TO HURRY--” Feliciano cut in, now wailing and stuttering with almost every word. “NO-NOT MUCH TI-TIME L-LEFT--LAST WORDS--MI-MIGHT NOT MAKE IT--”

Lovino didn’t really remember much of what happened after that. He faintly remembered Feli sobbing. He faintly recognized his vision going blurry as he pressed down on the gas pedal. He faintly remembered his mind racing, desperate thoughts flitting through. His nonno had to be okay. He couldn’t leave them. He was all they had.

Lovino vaguely remembered hearing police sirens, but he couldn’t remember what he’d said, or whether he had stopped at all. Two words cycled through his head: be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay.

The next thing he knew, he and Feli were sprinting through sliding glass doors, only stopping when they reached the receptionists’ desk. Feli was still crying. Lovino was doing his best not to cry. They’d probably rattled off useless gibberish at the lady at the desk. He later wondered how much she’d understood. Be okay, be okay, please please please be okay.

She must have understood enough, because suddenly they were being led to a waiting room; they sat together, hands joined in a , eyes glued to the doors as best they could. Lovino’s eyesight kept getting blurry, and he had to blink to see again. The waiting room was like a slow and agonizing death; everyone else went about their daily business, but Lovino felt like his world was on the verge of crumbling apart, like the cake he’d had for lunch today. ( _Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay._ ) Nurses and doctors and other patients moved around them, but he couldn’t remember what they were doing or whether they had spoken to him at all. ( _He had to be okay, he couldn’t just leave like that._ ) The only thing that mattered were those doors down at the end of the room, the silence accentuated by hiccuping noises as Feli sniffled beside him and the tick-tock-tick-tock of the clock on the wall. ( _Please, God, please let him be okay, please let him recover, please, please, please please please._ ) The chattering of the hospital workers became background noise; the click-clack of sharp heels on the tile floor felt like a hammer drilling into his head; the concept of day or night became meaningless. All of his attention was pinpointed on the double doors opposite him; everything else was secondary. ( _Please be okay oh god please please please be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay-_ -).

And then the doors opened.

Lovino had always imagined that death would be more dramatic. That everyone in the room would cry and fall to their knees, the dramatic reprise of the main OST playing softly in the background. It wasn’t that way.

Death was no more than a couple sympathetic words carrying out the verdict.

“I’m sorry. We tried everything we could but--”

The explanations were meaningless. They were just extra unneeded tidbits. But the words “I’m sorry” kept on ringing in Lovino’s head. The verdict. The announcement. Of death. His nonno’s death. _His nonno’s death_. Lovino’s breath hitched as he tried to wrap the idea in his head.

It wasn’t okay. Lovino’s nonno was on a bed, pale as the white sheets that were covering him. Dead.

The man that made him pasta, the man that played mafia with them, the man that invented bedtime stories to them. That man was gone. He would never see his nonno again. The laugh wrinkles around his eyes, the boisterous laugh, the gentle pats on the head. His nonno was gone. Dead.

Somewhere along the line, he found himself on the floor, the world spinning around him. What would happen to him? To Feliciano? Who would take care of them now? Oh god oh god oh god god god.

Lovino’s mouth felt like sandpaper. He couldn’t focus on anything. There were noises around him. Fleeting touches. Scent of death. His stomach churned.

Lovino threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! We are Fish and Berry who are feeling slightly upset right now because if we named ourselves berryfishy it would have been a pun and we're upset now. Thank you for choosing to read this fic! We're kinda wondering how many people stopped reading because of the first sentence. Anyhow, this IS just the prologue so it doesn't have any action yet but we promise you a lot of annoying Spaniards and annoyed Italians. And probably a whole lot of sarcasm you didn't ask for. Enjoy!


	2. How The Fuck Is Feliciano Still A Ray Of Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything went downhill. Fast. Maybe it's a sinkhole because it doesn't seem like there's going to be an uphill.

Death was also clinical. It was some sort of formula. People would put their hands on Lovino’s shoulders and tell him some generic shit about how sorry they were, or how great his nonno was. An endless stream of “We’re sorry for your loss”-ers and “He was such a great man”-ers and “We’ll all miss him very much”-ers. The same fucking bullshit every single time. He tuned it out, just like he did to his classmate’s AP English stories.

Others were interested in the technical aspects. The cost of the funeral. What to do with the house and the business. Inheritance. Debt?

Debt.

The debt. The debt that announced that everything would be taken away. The debt that was supposed to make nonno’s business bigger killed it off.

Lovino laughed. Oh, life. Oh, death. He always thought that death was the saddest thing in the world. But the only feeling he got was disbelief. Everything was so fast and clinical. It was as if his nonno’s death was the last cog in the wheel to make everything click and destroy.

Lovino’s last high school summer stunk of money and death.

Looking back on it now, two months after the school year had started, Lovino considered it a miracle that both he and his brother had still managed to make it to college. He was officially an English major and his twin brother Feliciano was an art major, double concentration in drawing and painting. True, they now had no house to go back to, had no family, and had to start working to pay for living expenses, but they had made it. And that’s all that mattered. Right?

“EXCUSE ME!”

Lovino was jerked back to reality when an angry customer yelled at his face. “Yes sir?” he replied warily.

“YOU WEREN’T LISTENING TO ME WERE YOU.”

“I’m sorry sir, but--”

“YOU GAVE ME THE WRONG DRINK.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I thought I had the right dri-”

“HOW DARE YOU LIE TO A CUSTOMER LIKE THAT! IF YOU HEARD ME REPEAT WHAT I SAID.”

“While I understand your frustration--”

“I WANT A REFUND.”

Internally, he sighed, though his face remained neutral. Yep. This was his life. Working in a coffee shop full of neurotic people. And he couldn’t even fucking curse them out. If he did, he would get fired. Again. And he could not afford to get fired again. It had been a miracle he’d even managed to get hired again at all; he couldn’t take any more chances with this one.

Eventually, the supervisor came over, doing her best to calm the customer down. Lovino shrank behind the counter, his mouth clamped shut. Maybe if he stayed there and didn’t move, he wouldn’t be tempted to shout curses at everyone.

With the customer finally appeased--it was one of their regulars, so Lovino had just made his regular drink as usual, but the customer must have changed his order--the supervisor turned her eye onto him and he tried to shrink even smaller. Dammit, he wasn’t about to get fired, right?

“You’re fired.”

Lovino gritted his teeth. He held back all the curses, held back the desire to slap someone in the face, and even let his creep ass co-worker hit on him. And it took just one cranky customer to get him fired.

“Fine,” he spat. “I didn’t like this shitty job anyway. And if you touch my ass one more time I will break your wrist.”

She seemed taken aback by that statement, her face contorting as her mind processed what he’d just said. Her eyes bugged out and she looked like she wanted to slap him.  Lovino would have fucking laughed, if this had been any other situation. Unfortunately for him, he was fucking pissed. (Fuck he was jobless again, what was he going to tell Feli?) He tore off his apron and tossed it at the supervisor, who barely reacted in time to catch it before the heavy cloth fell on her face. Then, with as much anger as he could muster, he blinked (those _weren’t_ tears dammit!), stormed out of the coffee shop, and never looked back.

\-----

It was a good thing he’d barely brought anything to work today, he thought as he parked his bike in front of red-bricked dorm building he and his brother currently lived in. It had been so warm when he left that he’d simply pocketed his keys and cell phone and set off.

Lovino grumbled to himself as he fumbled with his keys, walking as quickly into the building as he could. At least it had saved him the embarrassment of going into the employee’s room to get his stuff. The walk of shame out of the shop would have been mortifying.

The hallway was dimly lit when Lovino reached the second floor. When he unlocked the door to his and Feliciano’s room, the entire place was dark. He sighed, flicking on the lights before shutting and locking the door behind him. Feliciano wasn’t due back from his afternoon class for another hour. For now, he had the place to himself.

Not that this place felt like home. Despite the two months spent in this room, it still felt strange and new. There was no funny clock that screeched like a cat at noon, no familiar smell of pasta in the air, and above all, there was no nonno. In fact, they didn’t even have a kitchen here. He felt like a disappointment of an Italian to not have had home-cooked pasta for almost six months now. His only comfort was the small tomato garden near the window. It was a breath of nostalgia that Lovino cherished. He missed home.

Lovino’s thought was immediately cut off by a sudden boisterous laughter coming from the wall next to him. Lovino jumped, a curse word immediately flying from his lips. It was the goddamn neighbor again. The fucking neighbor that always seemed to be happy despite the fact that he lived in a crappy dorm where the walls were so thin you had no privacy. The fucking neighbor who always sang sappy love songs while playing the guitar. The happiness mocked Lovino.

With a blood curdling yell, Lovino pounded his fist on the thin wall that separated the happiness and himself.

“SHUT UP!”

He started to curse in mixed English and Italian, getting creative with his words on more than one occasion. He was breathing heavily by the time he was done. The other side seemed quiet now. Lovino leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. Well, at least it had worked.

Then a comforting tune and a soothing voice started to come from the other side.

_“When I find myself in times of trouble Mother Mary com-”_

“SHUT THE FUCK UP.” That fucker sang this song every morning. God WHY.

_“...speaking words of wisdom, let it b-”_

“FUCKING CHRIST.” Lovino banged his fist against the wall again. “SHUT THE FUCK UP.” The singing and the music stopped, and Lovino slid to the floor with a sigh. “Finally,” he mumbled to himself. Peace at fucking last.

Peace that was shattered as a quick tune started playing and the same voice belted out:  _“Take it easy, take it easy! Don’t let--”_

Lovino growled. Would it be worth the expenses to punch through the wall and strangle his singing neighbor?

_“--the sound of your own wheels--”_

Deciding that the satisfaction wasn’t worth the cost or the effort, he banged his fist once against the wall and stormed out of the room, stomping down the hall.

_“--drive you crazy. Lighten up while you still can, don’t even try to understand--”_

Before Lovino even had a chance to bang on the door and start yelling, it swung open, revealing a tall, tanned guy playing a guitar hanging from his neck. Lovino was momentarily taken back by how bright and green his eyes were. The guy was grinning as he sang, _“Just find a place to make your stand and take it easy~”_

Lovino scowled. “Shut up.”

“Hola!” The Annoying Bastard strummed his guitar, picking out a soft tune. “I’m Antonio, your neighbor.”  _Wow as if that wasn’t obvious, you fuckwad._  “You’re Feliciano’s twin right? Lo..Lo...Lovi...no?”

Lovino gritted his teeth. “I said shut up bastard.”

“He told me you’re an English major--”

“Shut up or I will shove that guitar up your ass.”

Music Bastard raised an eyebrow, but he didn't look all that surprised. “Wow, Feli wasn't kidding when he said that you could be scary.”  _Oh for fuck’s sake_ \--

“Don’t talk to my brother either. He doesn’t need a noisy bastard that kills brain cells. He doesn’t have enough as is.”

“Aw don’t say that Lovi.”

Lovino put on his most intimidating glare. “I will kill you.”

Apparently, it didn’t work. Antonio simply flashed a grin and spread his arms as if basking in a non-existing spotlight before announcing the single, most idiotic thing his mind could have conjured up: “I’m too hot to be killed.”

“Shut up or I’ll call the police.” He glared at Antonio--the noisy bastard  _why wasn’t his glares working_ \--one more time before he stormed off and went back inside his own room, slamming the door shut to emphasize his point.

A while later, the lock clicked and the door swung open. Feliciano’s cheerful “Ve~ I’m back!” found Lovino sitting by the opened window, his hand gently petting the leaves of the tomato plant as the breeze cooled down the small room.

Lovino glanced at him from the corner of his eye before turning back to look out the window. “Welcome back,” he mumbled, staring outside.

Feliciano paused, and frowned. “Lovi? I thought you were supposed to be working?”

Lovino didn’t even look backwards when he replied, “Nope. Got fired. Fucking asshole customer blew it.”

“Ve~ Well at least you’re not going to get groped by the supervisor anymore.”

“Yeah, and also moneyless. Again.”

“Y-you’ll get a job again though right?”

“I hope so. How was class?”

At that, Feliciano went off on a tangent about how they spent the entire time painting (it was his foundations painting course, the professor hadn’t let him test out of it no matter how much Feliciano had offered to show him his portfolio) and oh god he liked painting but spending the past four hours straight sitting at a canvas and just painting an object from different angles was going to make him go crazy. Lovino continued to pet the tomato plant.

“I swear,” Feliciano continued as he pulled supplies out of his backpack and onto his desk. “I like painting, I really do! But I can’t do any detailing with the time we’re given, and he even came by and told me I was trying to put too much details! Lovi, isn't that just too mean?” Not expecting a reply, he powered onwards, waving a still-wet paintbrush in the air. “I mean, he only gives us thirty minute intervals for each angle, how else am I going to get it to look right?” Setting down the paintbrushes, he huffed and started taking out textbooks. “I hope we move on soon, he said that starting next class we’re going to be able to work on our final projects. Then he can’t complain no matter how much detail I try putting in!”

As Feliciano yammered on about his class, all Lovino could think was,  _‘That sounds like fun.’_

\-----

The next day, Lovino begrudgingly went around town after classes ended to find another job. He went into coffee shops, cafes, retail stores, restaurants, bike repair shops, gas stations, one after the other. Unfortunately, nobody was willing to hire a 19-year-old college student who had worked four different jobs in the past five months and didn’t have a single reference number to show for it. (Guess he should have been nicer to at least one of his supervisors…maybe if he hadn’t told the last one to fuck off, he would have at least gotten a decent review-- even if it was probably his ass that would have gotten him the good review.)

He kept going though, kept trying. He couldn’t just give up--Feliciano was counting on him to find another job. Feliciano was already busy with his own job, and neither of them could take on more than one with the course load they currently had. Feliciano’s art class was proving to be time consuming, and writing and peer-editing stories for his introductory creative writing course was eating up a giant chunk of his time.

After the fifteenth try--seriously, was nobody in this town willing to hire him?--Lovino cursed as loudly as he could as he left the dingy coffee shop behind. Fifteen stores. Fifteen “NOW HIRING” signs. Fifteen different business that might possibly hire him. Fifteen different places in this damned town, and not a  _single fucking one_  wanted him because of his track record. (Not that he blamed them, he wouldn’t hire himself if he were in their shoes.)

Come on, he thought. There had to be one place--ONE PLACE--that was willing to take him.

But he was so fucking tired. Maybe he should call it a day and be done with it. He hadn’t even started homework yet, convinced that he’d be able to find some place before dinner. Unfortunately, he’d underestimated the local business’ unwillingness to hire him.

His stomach twisted and turned. No. He had to find another place. He had to. He clenched his hand, nails digging into his palm.

But after fifteen tries…

If he gave up now, he’d have to go home empty-handed.

_What am I going to tell Feli?_

Lovino’s fist connected with a streetlight, hand clenched so tightly he’d lost feeling in his palm.

No.

He couldn’t go home. Not yet. Not without at least some sort of result.

Feli was working on a double concentration, he couldn’t afford to take on more hours. And Lovino couldn’t just bum around their room for the next year until someone decided to take pity on him.

But Lovino was so. fucking. tired. He couldn’t take any more of this. It was 6:30 pm. He had been going around the town since 1pm. He doubted there were even any more business hiring in this town, and he didn’t have the energy to go to the next town over.

He rammed his head against the streetlight, letting out a large sigh. Shit he could see his breath. The temperature was dropping--the nights were getting colder, and the weather report had said they might get snow in the next week. Lovino’s stomach growled. His hands were freezing. His ears were about to go numb. And he had already tried fifteen different places that were hiring, and none of them had even offered him an interview.

His phone buzzed, and his hand shot into his pocket, hurrying to pull it out with stiff fingers. He answered the call without even looking at the number. “H-hello?”

“Loviiiii~”

“...Feli? I-Is something wrong?” Lovino held his breath, hand gripping his cell phone tightly, heart pounding in his throat.

“Ve~ Where are you? I’m hungry~”

He took a breath, loosening his grip on the cellular device. He started walking back towards the dorm building. “I was out looking for a fucking job of course. I’m coming back now.”

“Ehhh, so no luck?”

“What do you fucking think?” He ran a hand through his hair, eyes glancing around. Well, so much for keeping up a nice appearance. “...Want me to get anything while I’m out?”

“No, it’s fine!” Feliciano’s voice rang through to Lovino’s ear as he bubbled happily on the other end of the call. Lovino could hear a loud thunk as something hit a wooden surface. “My boss was really happy about last week’s sales and bought us all dinner, and he let me bring a bunch back!”

“Is it shitty take out?”

“Well, it’s not shitty…”

He sighed, eyes glancing over the stores next to him. Hardware store, candy shop, grocery store… “Fine, whatever. I’m assuming you got enough for both of us?” Coffee shop, stationery store, “COME APPLY PLEASE WE HAVE A NEON SIGN” neon lights sto--

He blinked and looked again.

That wasn’t a neon light store that only sold “COME APPLY PLEASE WE HAVE A NEON SIGN” signs. He was pretty sure that the sign did exactly opposite of what it intended to do but jesus he was desperate for a job. He ran over to the window, trying to see inside, Feliciano’s voice running into the background as he focused on what was behind the glass.

It looked like a cafe. Okay. He could do cafes. There was a counter with the cash register running along the back of the shop, while round tables were scattered around the rest of the room. At the very end of the room, there was a bar with a sign that read “No alcohol served until 7pm”. There was a slightly elevated area near the counter. Maybe for performers? It was dinner time, around 6:30, but there didn’t appear to be many customers inside.

“Welcome.” A voice interrupted his thoughts. Lovino turned around to see a man-- perhaps in his early 40s, with long blond hair and a stoic face.

“Thranduil?” Lovino muttered in surprise.

“Ve? Did you say something?” Feliciano’s voice asked through the cell phone.

“Nothing, I’ll be home in a bit,” Lovino said hurriedly before ending the call. Thranduil was still looking at him, face devoid of emotion, though Lovino thought he could see a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Would you like a table? Or are you here for the bar? The bar is not open until 7pm. No buts.” Thranduil deadpanned almost monotonously.

“Um-- Yea I actually saw the fu- I saw the COME AP-- the for hire sign.”

“Oh.” Thranduil motioned his head towards the corner of the cafe. “Well, come in then. We can conduct an interview right now.”

“Uh. Okay. I mean here is my resume and cover letter--” Lovino dug through his bag and grabbed his paperwork.

“I don’t need it.” Thranduil waved his hand dismissively. “Take a seat here.” He sat at one of the tables.

Lovino frowned and shoved the papers back inside the bag. “Okay.”

“My name is Aldrich and I’m the owner of the cafe bar Beery Coffee.” Thranduil--no wait, Aldrich--grimaced slightly when he said the bar’s name. “We need a nighttime barista. We’d be happy to give you training if you need it as long as you can start working right away. So tell me about yourself.”

Beery Coffee. Lovino shoved the urge to just shake his head and run off, and clawed at his thighs instead. This was painful. “My name is Lovino Vargas. I’m 19 years old and I study at the New York College of Modern and Traditional Arts. My previous job was a barista so I doubt that I’ll need a lot of training. I’m optimistic, hardworking, and organized.” Ha. Yeah right. “If you hire me, I promise I’ll do a great job.”

Aldrich leaned backwards in his chair, eyebrow raised. “Hmmmm...really?”

Lovino nodded slowly. “I promise I’m a good worker.” He hoped to god that he would get hired. He fucking needed this.

Lovino’s desperation must have reached Aldrich.“Well, I’ll take your word on that then. I can fire you anytime so this should be fine. I’ll pay you 10 dollars per hour with a 15 minute break every 5 hour shift. There’s no uniform other than an apron for baristas as long as you don’t wear open toed shoes.  I need you to work Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday from 7pm to 2am. Can you do that?”

7pm to 2am… Shit he wasn’t going to get a lot of sleep. He smiled politely. “Yes I can do that.”

“Alright, then I’ll see you tomorrow at 7pm. If you want to look around this place for couple minutes before you go, you can do that. I hope it’s going to be a pleasure working with you.” Aldrich stood up and dusted his hands.

“Yes! Thank you.” Thank fucking god yes yes yes. He got a job. A job that paid him relatively well--a bit higher than minimum wage, at least. Sure, the boss looked scary, but he could look past that.

Lovino didn’t bother sticking around. Instead, he left immediately and called Feliciano.

“I got a job,” Lovino said somewhat unenthusiastically as soon as the call connected. He didn’t want to show Feliciano how he was so worried that he wouldn’t get a job. “I’ll be home in 20 minutes.”

“That’s great fratello! Um fratello-- your noodles are soggy is that ok?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so it's finals time for both of us so it's only natural we post a chapter. We're planning to write more during winter break so hopefully everything will go well.  
> Beery Coffee is a peculiar place that bought a for hire neon sign because they're just like that. Gilbert probably custom ordered it as a joke when trying to convince his gramps to hire Antonio and then when they really needed to hire someone they used it because who has time to write "for hire" on an A4 paper with a sharpie?  
> Also the chapter is 3456 words so we are very happy.


End file.
